


Trouble In the Heartland

by elegantwings



Series: 66 Seals [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantwings/pseuds/elegantwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas have hated each other almost since the day they met; even though they take different classes and have different friends, their mutual animosity never really cooled off. Now that they're next-door neighbors they just barely play nice, completely clueless   that online they've become not only allies but best friends. And they just might be falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble In the Heartland

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to [ Ramble On, Prove it All Night ](http://elegantwingsfic.livejournal.com/3621.html). Takes place a year before, when Dean and Cas are juniors in high school.

1\. I got my facts learned real good now

A car door slams shut and Dean glances through his window for the third time, looking down to see his new neighbor remove a small, square box, as neatly packed and labeled as the other three square boxes he’s pulled from the car so far. Not that Dean has been paying any attention, because he hasn’t. “Would you look at that car? Douchebags drive cars like that. I knew they were a bunch of pretentious fucks, but really? A 2008 Impala?”

Ash looks thoroughly unimpressed from under Dean’s desk. “Kind of like this five year old insult to hard drives everywhere?” He offers him a raised eyebrow and no sympathy. “Seriously, dude, how much hentai do you download on this thing?”

“Shut up! This is important. It’s an Impala, man, living next door to mine! And it looks like a piece of shit. My baby’s going to get a complex.” Dean grips the sill and wonders if he can will the car away if he stares long enough. And maybe the owner, too, and his brother for good measure. Nothing good comes from living next to Novaks, and even though Dean isn’t exactly in a position to be picky about his living arrangements, when has that ever stopped him?

Ash returns to the chair and starts typing. “I never thought Cas was that bad,” he says as nonchalantly as always, somehow seeing straight to the heart of the matter. “Definitely a better guy than his brothers. Do you like, have a crush on him or something? He’s gay, I think.”

Dean jerks away from the window and irrationally thinking he should duck in case Cas overheard, however improbable that may be. Especially since Cas is inside his house right now. “No! Of course not. He’s too uptight, anyway.”

“Hey, you’ve heard the rumors.”

Dean stifles the urge to defend Cas’s virtue. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Ash shrugs. “Whatever, not my business. So anyway, I think I fixed everything and replaced all the broken stuff. And if you click another pop-up that says, “YOU’RE THE WINNER!” I will actually kill you.”

“It was just that one time!”

“Whatever. Do you want me to install 66 Seals?”

Dean spares one more look through the window, just in time to see Cas pull out of the driveway. He can hear something up with the car, can’t tell exactly what but he knows it’s not right. While he doesn’t actually want Cas to get hurt, he hopes the joke of a car he drives ends up out of commission for the near future.

“Yeah, why the hell not.”

***

Even a computer that runs like new barely distracts Dean from the little things that make him hate his new neighbor. Of course Cas and Sam have become friends in no time, discussing everything from Discovery channel specials to advanced mathematics. Dean has to blast the merry sounds of Metallica and demon-killing to drown them out.

When Sam asks (almost daily) why Dean hates Cas so much, because Cas is such a nice guy and Cas is so smart, Dean thinks he’s going to either be sick or slash Cas’s tires. Possibly both. Because truth be told, he doesn’t really have a great reason for disliking him. He’s just annoying. Dean agrees with Ash, Cas is nowhere near as painful to be around as his older brothers, or the sister who unapologetically let Dean believe he’d ever get anywhere past second base before she left for college. If nothing else, then it’s because Cas thinks he’s better than everyone and the dude listens to Death Cab for Cutie and just, no.

While Dean would like to think there’s other reasons why he doesn’t like Cas, on some level he knows that these are the only reasons he’s got.

***

It wasn’t just Anna’s rejection that set Dean’s teeth on edge, or Gabriel reminding Dean all through grade school that he lived in a trailer before Dean even understood why it mattered, but it was Michael, seeing something in Dean years ago that could be “saved”.

In the Novak family room, Michael explained numbers and right and wrong in the same breath. Castiel was always just out of sight and buried in a book. Dean hated his calm, hated that they were in the same grade, but this wide-eyed weirdo had so much more.

Dean caught Michael’s attention at the after school program at the local church. Every day at 3 pm, Dean would follow the high school kids around the corner to St. Catherine’s where Sammy was already in daycare. Why a church program, Dean will never understand. Maybe John thought it would heal Dean in some abstract way that nothing else had yet, but the truth was, Dean remembers acting out worse during the after school program than he ever did in school or at home. At seven, Dean failed to understand why he had to play with the other kids when he just wanted to play with Sam. Why a bunch of mothers who had their own kids to worry about would say, “What a shame about the Winchester boys.” The truth was they were unsympathetic when it counted.

His father had warned him not to get any ideas, not to trust Michael or his parents just because they were being nice to him now. The difference between the Novaks and the Winchesters, John would say at least once a week as he tied little sneakers or packed leaking lunch bags, was the Novaks were privileged and the Winchesters were not. No matter how good they treat you, they think they’re better than you. And according to the rest of the world, they are.

It was at the Novak’s kitchen table where Dean learned that there were foods other than mac and cheese, spaghetti-o’s, and cheeseburgers. When Michael wasn’t listening, Gabriel would tease Dean and then bribe him with candy Dean had never been brave enough to ask for at home. Anna, a socialite in training even then, would flit in and out of the house, stopping to ruffle Dean’s hair and tell him she liked his t-shirt. But Castiel did nothing but stare. After weeks he continued to elude Dean, disappearing into his huge house or making himself scarce on the playground with a precision that drove teachers crazy.

Finally, one afternoon Dean seized a moment of freedom to pluck the chapter book out of Cas’s hands. They blinked at each other for a long moment, terribly long for Dean’s attention span.

“Michael said I shouldn’t be your friend.” Cas’s voice doesn’t waver, a flat monotone, oddly low even then.

Dean frowned. “How come?”

“He says you live with drug dealers and you’ll probably grow up and kill people. You’re a bad influence,” he said as if the words were his own. Then he grabbed his book back and ran upstairs.

Dean almost chased after him, but he hadn’t hit anyone in a while and he promised he wouldn’t anymore. Instead, he walked back into the living room and climbed on top of the couch, reaching out t push a stupid, ugly angel statuette to the ground.

Then there was a lot of yelling. Dean couldn’t try and pretend he didn’t do it even if he wanted to, and though he’d normally act like it was an accident, he stuck his chin up and glared at Mrs. Novak while she shrieked. She used words like “ungrateful” and “white trash”, told his father on the phone that he was responsible for the cost.

Not surprisingly, Bobby was the one to pick up Dean fifteen minutes later, and even less surprisingly, he refused to shell out a penny to the woman. Somehow Dean knew even then that he’d never be back, and he wasn’t sorry to see the pale blue house grow smaller and smaller as he drove away for the last time.

He’d pretended he didn’t see Cas hiding behind the staircase, because he hadn’t hit anyone in a while and he promised he wouldn’t anymore. But he couldn’t ever explain to anyone why he’d smashed the angel, even when he tried.

He almost regretted the shouting it caused at home. For some reason Bobby always managed to get through to John in some way, maybe because they shared the grief of a lost wife, maybe because Bobby was the only one brave enough, or who cared enough to stand up to John. Either way, hearing him say awful things about the Novaks and their church made Dean feel like he’d done the right thing, somehow. From then on, Sam and Dean spent their afternoons at Bobby’s house, and then they were living at Bobby’s in a transition so seamless Dean can’t remember moving out of the trailer. Sam doesn’t remember the trailer at all.

***

2- Talk about a dream, try to make it real

Things just fit together for Dean, always have, whether they’re parts of an engine or the atoms in a molecule. If he sees a puzzle, he’s already figuring out how the grooved edges should slot into place. He might not understand the theme of a book until someone spells it out for him, or which date goes with which battle in which country, but just try to prove he can’t see a chemical reaction from start to finish. And try his guidance counselor does.

He really wants to video the look on her face when she realizes she can’t actually stop him from taking AP Biology next year.

Can’t really blame her, though, with the way half the junior class has been in and out of her office. As the popularity of 66 Seals increases, grades and attendance at Lawrence High decrease. And for the most part, Dean’s barely checking into his classes, skipping half the day, usually the first half. Still, his schedule for next year reads “AP Biology” nestled around pre-calc and senior English.

For someone who’s been slacking off steadily since fifth grade, it’s not a terrible schedule. But it’s nothing compared to what Sam’s setting himself up for as his middle school graduation creeps closer. He has high school placement tests in June, but predictably he starts freaking out in March. It’s not like Dean can help him study, but he can’t really afford a tutor either. John’s been around less and less, and his checks come infrequently and for various amounts, never from the same address. It’s only ever enough to pay the bills and stock the fridge, combined with what little Dean makes at the shop.

He’s about to crack and ask Bobby about hiring a tutor when he comes home from work to find Castiel and Sam sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over textbooks. The urge to repeat the same warning John gave him years ago hits Dean hard, but he holds himself back. Instead he hands Sam $50 every week to pay Cas. He knows from the odd company Cas keeps, people like Balthazar, Crowley, and Meg Masters that Cas has long grown out of parroting back his older brother’s beliefs. It’s hard to pretend you’re still a devout Catholic when you’re openly gay, shamelessly dating an older guy in a way that makes Dean more jealous than he’ll ever admit.

***

3-I don’t give a damn for just the in-betweens

A few weeks into April, Dean fucks up in 66 Seals so badly that someone he doesn’t even know decides to save his ass. He starts opening up to the stranger in ways he’s only talked to Sam before. After a month, he realizes that he’s made a better friend in someone he’s ever met than he has in anyone he’s gone to school with his whole life. Because Jo and Ash and Chuck care about him, they’re great to hang out with, but no one listens to him the way Sam does. Except Clarence does, and on top of that, he understands it like he might actually know how Dean feels in a way Sam never will.

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon. Dean’s hunting a wendigo instead of reading Their Eyes Were Watching God when Sam pokes his head in the doorway. “You planning on eating today? I’m sick of microwaving Easy Mac.”

“Yeah, ten minutes?” Dean answers without really paying attention.

“You said that an hour ago!” Sam complains, stepping over a pile of dirty shirts to shut off the monitor.

Dean smacks his hand away and switches it back on. “Hey! You’re gonna fuck up my mission! Can’t you teach yourself to cook?”

Sam switches it off again. “Bobby said to call him if you said that.” His hand hovers over the power button.

“Damn it,” Dean mutters, typing out “brb, brother’s a bitch” and hitting enter, hoping it goes through.

“Finally! I don’t see what’s so great about that game, anyway. It’s dark and all you do is kill things.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean pushes Sam out the door. “I like killing things. And I’ve already made friends about a thousand times more interesting than you. You can be replaced, you know.”

“That stopped working years ago, Dean. Anyway it’s dumb to trust people you haven’t met.”

“Whatever, he’s a good guy.”

“He?”

Dean blushes, realizing his mistake. “What do you want to eat?”

“Dean! What’s his name? Does he go to your school? How old is he? Did you break up with Layla?”

Dean whaps him with a wooden spoon. “The fuck? How do you even know who Layla is? Shut up and pick a vegetable.”

Sam huffs and opens the freezer. “You don’t tell me anything anymore.”

***

4- I’m caught in a crossfire that I don’t understand

Dean wants to say “I told you so,” when Castiel’s car breaks down in May, but he didn’t actually tell him so. As a result he feels responsible enough to go out and rescue him with little complaint. He finds Cas staring intensely at the stalled car, as if frowning will magically repair whatever’s wrong with it. He looks tired, quietly greeting Dean and not reacting at all to the suggestion that he forgo repairs entirely and just buy a new car.

“Dude, seriously, this thing is a wreck.” From far away, it doesn’t look too bad, but up close its kind of a mess. The paint is dull and scratched, there’s several dents and it makes all kinds of noises when it runs. The noises could mean any of a dozen things, he explains, but the worst of his problems right now is a dead battery. “Can’t you ask your parents for a new sports car or something?”

Cas gives him a look even more withering than what he’d been focusing on the car.

"Unfortunately, your opinion won't start my car."

"Sensitive much? I'm just trying to save you some cash."

"Right now I'd like to be saved from an afternoon arguing with you in a parking lot."

“Yeah, are you sure I’m the only person you can call? Don’t you have a half dozen brothers or boyfriends to choose from?”

Cas refuses to rise to the bait. “Does it really make you feel better about yourself to hate me this much? You clearly have the upper hand right now. Wouldn’t it be in your best interests to get this over with as quickly as possible?”

Dean takes a moment to think over what Cas said. “Shut up and get in my car.”

It’s a miracle they make it to Bobby’s shop. On top of thinking Dean’s his personal car service, Cas thinks he has a choice in radio stations.

“Don’t do that,” Dean snaps when Cas reaches for the dial.

“Oh, I was just-“

“What’s wrong with the Doors, anyway?”

“Nothing, I didn’t mean-“

“Look, I don’t expect you to get good music, but in my car what I play is sacred.”

“For God’s sake, Dean, look at the road!”

“You’re such an old lady. Have you ever even heard the Doors before? Jim Morrison was amazing, and man did he look good in leath-” Suddenly the road is very fascinating.

“And he looked good in what, Dean?” Cas presses with a perfectly neutral tone. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“We’re here,” Dean grunts, pulling into the lot.

“I doubt Jim Morrison wore “we’re here.”

“Shut up!”

When everything’s taken care of, Dean’s ready to bail but something makes him stop when he sees Cas looking at his phone with disappointment. What he intends to be an offer of a ride comes out as, “Jim too busy to pick you up?”

Cas looks up, surprised. “How do you know about Jim?”

In a falsetto imitation of his brother, Dean recites, “Jim from the hospital Jim, Jim all Sam talks about is Jim and Cas, Jim is in med school isn’t that sooo cool Jim.”

For a moment Cas simply stares at him. “Wow. Someone is jealous that they’re not one of my “half dozen” boyfriends.”

Dean’s fists clench, “Listen here, you ass-“

“If you princesses are done,” Bobby says from the doorway of his office, “Can you kiss and make up? Because this isn’t kindergarten and I’m not wasting the gas to send the both of you to the same place.”

The ride home passes in complete silence. Dean doesn’t even turn on the radio. Finally, they part ways with little but a quiet thanks from Cas. Except, as Dean realizes before he can be too thankful for his freedom, Cas is still right behind him.

“Haven’t you had enough?” Dean snaps.

“Trust me I’d rather be a hundred miles away right now, but I have to tutor Sam,” Cas explains.

Sam’s sitting on the staircase inside, relieved to see Cas has survived his car misadventures. He takes one look at their twin expressions of frustration and asks, “Oh god, guys, what happened now?”

“Nothing!” They say in unison as they go their separate ways, Dean upstairs to slam his door and Cas into the kitchen while Sam apologizes yet again for his brother’s bad attitude.

***

Clarence is online 9:10 pm

Bonzo: FINALLY You better be ready to kill things, man

I am so ready to kill things

Clarence: By the look of things you’ve done a lot of killing already. Is everything okay?

Bonzo: It’s been one of those days

Clarence: If it’s any consolation, I lost two hours to car trouble today.

Bonzo: Wow must be in the air

Clarence: What do you mean?

Bonzo: Had to help this ass with his car. Wouldn’t shut his cakehole

Clarence: Oh? Funny. Some ass “helped” me with mine.

Bonzo: Uh if you’re saying the dude’s an ass, you must really be pissed.

Clarence: Ha ha. -.-. I’m…disappointed. It seems that I’m surrounded by idiots. Even the people I think might be better than that prove otherwise, with few exceptions.

Bonzo: Yeah? At least you have exceptions

Clarence: There must be someone you care about.

Bonzo: other than my brother? Well…nevrmind. Hey, did you see the new map?

Clarence: Yes. But, look. I don’t have many people, either, there’s you, and another friend. But that’s about it.

Bonzo: I was trying to avoid the chick flick, but okay. Yeah, I have you, Big Man. That’s something.

Can we play now? I’m ready to save your ass yet again.

Clarence: Yes, yes, just take a look at your shoulder first, okay?

Bonzo: RIGHT. Just yesterday I was pulling you out of holy fire

Clarence: Was that before or after you set off the trap in the first place?

6:00 am

Bonzo: Oh, fuck. My alarm just went off.

Hello?

Clarence: I just realized I never asked anyone for a ride today.

Bonzo: Hope you don’t get stuck with that guy from last night

Clarence: Trust me, I’d sooner take the bus. I’ll talk to you tonight?

Bonzo: Duh. Have a good day, man. Good luck

Clarence: Thank you. You, too.

***

Dean makes a whole pot of coffee and warns Sam it’ll stunt his growth. He needs something to keep him awake long enough to get Sam to school and make an appearance in maybe three classes before he cuts out to go home and sleep. As they pass Cas walking slowly down the sidewalk looking just as exhausted as Dean feels, Dean honks like any thoughtful neighbor would and keeps driving.

“Dean!” Sam protests, “Offer him a ride.”

“What was that? I can’t hear you,” he says as he turns up the volume. The radio gods smile on him with a complete lack of Jim Morrison.

Dean parks in the high school lot like usual with barely enough time for Sam to make it across the street to the middle school before the first bell. Sam's retreiving his backpack when a flashy silver BMW pulls into the parking lot way too fast, blasting some sort of loud pop music. Even Cas looks a little disturbed when he climbs out of the passenger seat, but it might be because this is the first time he's shown up at school with a boyfriend, and an older one at that.

Jim doesn't let Cas sprint into the school like he so obviously wants to. He leans against his car, holding Cas in between his legs while Cas looks more and more like a scared deer. Dean rolls his eyes, "Like we really need to see this first thing in the morning."

"Oh come on, Dean, you've done worse with your girlfriends, I've heard all the stories. Anyway, at least someone gave him a ride," he says seriously.

Dean cuffs him upside his head. "Don't be such a girl, the bus wouldn't have killed him."

By now, Cas has failed several times to free himself completely, dragged back. But Jim’s attempts to kiss him are met finally with a firm hand to his chest. “At least he has some sense,” Dean mutters.

“Sounds like you’re jealous to me,” Sam responds before he shoulders his bag, ready to go before things really get ugly.

“Sammy, the day I’m jealous of a guy who wears neon underwear is the day I commit seppuku. You, on the other hand…” Dean smirks in the way that usually means Sam’s going to regret ever opening his mouth. “Hey, Jim!” he calls out, “Can you tell me where you got that underwear? My brother here would love a pair for his birthday!”

Jim claps his hands together with amusement. Sam’s gonna be mad for at least the rest of the day, but it’s definitely worth it now to see him and Cas look so scandalized. As Dean passes he can hear Jim say, “Who is that? I like him already,” and maybe it’s a day worth sticking around for after all.

***

5- I want the heart, I want the soul, I want control

Every once in a while, Ellen turns a blind eye while Jo “sneaks” a couple of six packs to the basement. She, Ash, Chuck, and Dean hang out and play video games and watch movies all night, and their parents are happy that there’s some kind of adult supervision just in case. Of all the things they could do, staying up and eating all night is hardly the worst.

Tonight they’re celebrating another year that ended just as uneventfully as the last, looking forward to summer jobs and sleeping in on weekdays. “Mom practically begged me to invite you guys over,” Jo says as she sets up her Wii, “She thinks we’re all going to die in front of our computers or something.”

The more they drink, the more racing becomes a contest of who can crash their car more creatively, and when they get tired of that they squash their sleeping bags together in front of the TV and load up a kung-fu classic. Towards eleven they’re yawning and nodding off, using each other like pillows the way they did in first grade. Dean nudges Jo, and even though she’s disappointed, she understands. They all know by now it’s no use to try and convince him to stay the night. Sam’s his responsibility, at four or fourteen.

He’s a little more drunk than he intended to be, stumbling up the stairs and into the bar where Ellen’s wiping down a table. He doesn’t want to look stupid or irresponsible in front of her, but she smiles when she sees him. “You know, no one will think any worse of you if you just want to crash with everyone else,” because she’s a mom and that’s what moms do, they keep trying even when everyone else gives up. When he shrugs silently, she picks up her keys because she also knows when it’s time to call it quits.

Though the ride is short, Ellen always tries to catch up on Dean’s life as she drives. Usually she asks about school, about Sam, but tonight the conversation takes a different turn. “You know if you ever need to talk about anything, you can always talk to me. I might look old but I had all sorts of boy troubles when I was your age.”

He sinks deeper in his seat, thinking he knows where this conversation is going. “I don’t have…you know, I don’t want to date Jo.”

“Oh, I know that, honey,” Ellen laughs, squeezing his shoulder. “Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that, you kids get along too well.”

She keeps talking but he nods and agrees without really listening, He’s thinking about what she said. How Jo’s been his sister since she’d noticed he didn’t have as many crayons as he did in kindergarten and silently dumped a pile of colors he’d never heard of on his desk. She’d introduced him to her cousin Ash and they’d hunch over his bulky grey gameboy during recess, and the three of them found Chuck hiding in a broom closet from bullies one day. They’d absorbed him into their little group, and he was safe from anyone afraid to go up against Dean’s scrappy fearlessness. Which was pretty much everyone after he’d given a third-grader a bloody nose.

“It’s Thursday at eight, alright? You should ask Bobby and Sam to come with us.” He looks at her blankly. “Alright, I’ll ask Bobby and Sam,” she says with a playful smile. “And I meant it, it’s okay.” He has no idea what she means, but he agrees anyway so he can get out of the car. At the front door, he fishes around in his pocket for his keys, waving as she finally drives away, and sits heavily on the porch steps. Sam’s probably asleep, but the very last thing Dean wants to do at this hour is stumble around like John used to do when they were kids.

He’ll wait a couple of hours, until he feels like he can successfully navigate the darkened house without knocking anything over. Spreading his arms behind himself he leans back, hoping he doesn’t fall asleep. If Sam found him here in the morning, it’d be just as bad.

When he hears the car pull into the driveway next door, he assumes it’s Gabe coming back from a party. The bushes that separate their driveways save him from the view that accompanies the wet kissing noises he hears next. He doesn’t expect the noises to end so abruptly, cut short as Castiel says, “Go home, Jim.”

“No fun,” the other man complains, “And you won’t let me drive.” The second statement sound almost like a dare.

“I trust you can walk around the corner.” Dean vaguely realizes he’s eavesdropping at this point, but if he got up and tried to go inside they’d probably hear him.

There’s what sounds like more kissing but a moment later Jim whines again, “Come on, live a little. You should be more like that guy Dean, he seems like fun.” Now things are getting interesting, Dean thinks as he tries not to laugh.

Cas sighs. “Yes, like you’ve said all night.”

“Hey, why don’t you get his number? You think he’d be up for a threesome?” It seems like he’s seriously considering this. “Is that what will finally get you to put out? God knows I’ve tried everything else.”

A voice in the back of Dean’s head reminds him that he should be freaking out about this statement, not imagining what it might be like.

Keys jangle as they pass hands. “Just go. If you want Dean’s number, go and ask for it yourself although I don’t suggest it.”

“Aww, come on, Cassie, don’t be like that.”

“I told you not to call me that!” His voice echoes down the empty street and chills run down Dean’s spine. He’s never heard Cas yell like that before.

“I can see when I’m not wanted. I really don’t know why I even bother.”

“Me either,” Cas says, normal volume. “Perhaps you should stop.”

“Perhaps I should,” Jim mocks. “Perhaps you should consider asking for that number, just for yourself.” His car door slams shut and he drives away.

Dean doesn’t know what to think, so he doesn’t at all, resting his arms behind himself again. An old, unused flowerpot tumbles over and he curses quietly as he hears footsteps in the grass.

“Are you spying on me?” Cas asks incredulously.

“What? No!” Dean protests, “It’s my porch, I can sit here.”

Cas closes his eyes for a moment and exhales. “Would you do me a favor and not say anything to anyone about it?”

“Whatever, it’s not like I would even if you didn’t ask,” Dean says defensively. And then in possibly the most surprising moment of the night, Cas sits on the porch next to him. “What are you doing?”

“When I go inside, I’ll have to face the fact that I’m surrounded by idiots, and that everyone I think might be better continues to prove otherwise.”

The words feel strange to Dean, almost familiar. They compel him to be equally honest. “I don’t want Sam to see me drunk.”

Cas frowns. “You hardly look drunk to me.”

“I don’t normally listen in on my neighbor’s fights.”

“I’m sorry for what he said.”

Dean shrugs. “Not like you told him to.” They fall into silence.

When Dean wakes up he’s alone, but it’s still dark out and he sneaks in, silently making his way to his bed and deciding to forget that any of tonight happened at all.

***

Dean’s not sure what wakes him mid-morning, but even after a handful of hours he knows sleep’s lost for now. Bobby doesn’t need him in until the afternoon, so he decides to kill a few hours online. He’s barely signed into 66 Seals when her hears heavy knocking at his door. In a million years he doesn’t expect his father to push in a moment later. “Nice of you to wake up,” John deadpans, and Dean tries to pretend his heart isn’t plummeting into his gut.

"Now listen to me carefully Dean, when I left you in charge of this house, and of Sam for that matter, I was expecting you to actually take care of the things. I come back, and what do I find? You wasting your life at this machine. Don't you realize you have responsibilities?"

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or that school’s out. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen John in months. For the first time in his life, Dean’s can’t control the anger that rises at his father’s words. Instead of turning the computer off like the good soldier of the past would have done, Dean fights back. “That’s fucking rich coming from you, the guy who leaves his kids behind for months at a time. Do you even remember the last time you were here? I heard Bobby practically beg you to come to Sam’s graduation, and Bobby don’t beg. Don’t fucking tell me I’m not taking care of my responsibilities when I spend half my life at the garage so Sam’s got more options than canned noodles.”

“I send you money,” John says, too calm to be good. “It’s not my fault you can’t manage it.”

It hits Dean all at once that he’s crossed a line, and whatever happens next, there’s no coming back.

“You wanna spend my money on this crap?” John asks, gesturing wide over the computer, “Well we don’t get those kind of luxuries here. I see living next door to the Novaks made you think you were privileged again. You can tell me how special you feel without your computer for a few weeks.”

“Without-?” Dean laughs bitterly, “Okay, Dad. Whatever the fuck you want, as always. I’m done.”

“Dean, I swear-“ John starts.

“Dad, let him go,” Sam says from the doorway.

Dean feels a twinge of regret, but he lets Sam take this one. He was always better at standing up to their father, anyway. He tries to tune out the conversation, but he can’t help but hear more.

“So you think he’s right, Sam? Are you trying to tell me that I leave and the two of you gang up against me?”

“I’m saying that if you take away the one thing Dean has, I’m leaving, too.”

“God damn it,” Dean mutters, torn between going back and making things right and just abandoning them both. After a moment’s hesitation he slams the door behind himself, cramming his keys into his pocket. John wouldn’t mess with the car, and a walk might help clear Dean’s head. Cutting across the yard, he’s too angry to pay much attention to where he’s going and completely misses the pair of outstretched legs until it’s too late and he’s hitting the ground hard. “Fuck!” he exclaims, “Of all the fucking places,” he pushes himself up and stares straight into Castiel’s eyes.

“Technically it’s my lawn,” Cas says dryly. He immediately glances back down at his laptop, looking much more concerned with whatever’s happening there.

Dean reaches over and presses the lid down. “Look, if you heard any of that, we’re officially even.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas responds, “Could you please get up? My leg’s falling asleep.”

Dean stares at him in disbelief. “You know you’re really weird, right?”

“You would be surprised how often I’m told that.”

“Doubt it.” He stands, brushing dirt from his pants. “Whatever, try not to sit in my way next time.”

“I’ll be careful to plan my life around your crises from now on.” He resumes typing, giving the screen another frown.

“Oh, fuck you, Cas,” he says without any force.

For the rest of the day, Dean’s legs throb as a constant reminder that in thirty seconds, his father decided that Dean’s not doing a good enough job in his absence. No, forget that a few years ago Dean would desperately try everything to make sure John was up and showered and to work, trying to erase the smell of stale beer and sweat from the house before Sam got up. Apparently taking one Saturday morning to himself makes him the bad guy.

Bobby doesn’t comment when he spends the day working on the most hopeless cars, the projects he’s supposed to leave for days off. Instead he waits for the garage to clear out before he tackles the subject of John. And in typical Bobby fashion, he tackles it head on. “How long did it take you idjits to pick a fight with each other? Ten minutes?”

“I’m pretty sure he attacked me the second he got in the house,” Dean say from under the hood, “Thanks for the warning by the way.”

“Mind not taking it out on my engines?” Bobby deflects.

“Not really,” Dean say, standing up. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“And leave the two of them alone all night? We want Sam to actually make it to his graduation.” Bobby rests a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Gotta face the music sooner or later, son.”

Dean shrugs.

“Thought you had the sense to leave the fighting to him and Sam.” Bobby’s tone isn’t unkind as he closes the hood. “Sam called right after you left to give me the heads up.”

“Of course he did,” Dean says, looking away.

“Dean, you know he’s full of shit. Look at me, boy. You do everything for Sam and then some, and John knows it.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but the look in his eyes says enough even as he mumbles, “Whatever.”

Bobby makes them swear to play nice for the sake of the Lawrence Middle School graduation the next day. With him around for dinner, the atmosphere clears up considerably and they manage to actually behave like a family for a few hours, up to the point when Dean asks when John has to leave again.

The silence says everything. A few hours after Sam’s officially a high school student, John’s making half-hearted promises about coming back soon, at least by Thanksgiving, handing Sam a wad of cash that’s supposed to make up for missing his birthday. It’s childish and Dean hates himself for it, but he can’t help remembering that didn’t even get a phone call to acknowledge his own birthday six months ago.

As soon as John’s cleared the driveway, Dean goes into the basement where his computer rests amidst car parts and Christmas decorations. Thankfully it’s all in one piece, easy to carry back upstairs and plug back in. He realizes he left 66 Seals mid-conversation the day before, and C always worries when Dean disappears for long stretches of time without any explanation. One more reason to hate John for the disruption he brings every time he blows in and out of Lawrence.

***

Bonzo: Man, sorry I left yesterday

My dad freaked out on me, took my computer

Fucking asshole

Clarence: You’re back!

Are you alright?

He didn’t hurt you, did he?

Bonzo: Nah, I just left and went to work

by the time I got back things were good

and he’s gone now

Clarence: Are you sure you’re alright?

Bonzo: Yeah, it wasn’t anything important

He expects me to babysit my brother 24/7, and you know I don’t mind looking out for him

But he’s a teenager and stuff

I need my time, too

Clarence: Exactly.

…hello?

Bonzo: Sorry, I went to grab a beer

Clarence: Friends don’t let friends drink and game.

Bonzo: I know I said get a sense of humor

But no.

Anyway, it wasn’t even like he got me sneaking in the house shitfaced, you know? Besides, what could my brother do? He’s 14, for christ’s sake.

Well, I’ll give it to him that I got into a lot of shit when I was that age, but I don’t know, my brother is the kind of guy that stay at home watching Discovery Channel

Clarence: My brother got into his fair share of trouble at 14.

But I guess in that respect, I’m more like your brother

Bonzo: you a goody two shoes?

Clarence: You could say that I used to be.

Bonzo: Did you grow a pair?

Clarence: More like I grew up.

Bonzo: You know, me too.

I’m not going to take my dad’s crap anymore

Clarence: You don’t have to

My father expects me to be more like him, I suppose, when sometimes I wonder if he’s even really my father.

Bonzo: Whoa

Clarence: What I mean is, aside from appearances we have nothing in common

Bonzo: Lol I like a lot of stuff my dad likes

doesn’t mean shit

Clarence: fair enough

Bonzo: what about your mom?

Clarence: I don’t think she’s had her own opinion for a long time

Bonzo: that sucks

Clarence: what about yours?

Bonzo: died when I was 4

Clarence: Oh. I’m sorry.

Bonzo: what you should be sorry for

Is that I’m a higher level than you are

Clarence: you’re not!

Bonzo: People are going to start thinking I’m just here to pick up your slack

Clarence: instead of the other way around?

Bonzo: I don’t need you, you know.

Clarence: The more time you spend complaining, the more time we lose

Bonzo: I hate you

Clarence: you don’t

You know, I bet you’re one of those guys that sits around with discovery channel on all day when it’s shark week

Bonzo: no one asked you. Go do whatever it is angels do.

***

Just like Ellen predicted, Dean forgets all about agreeing to some meeting on Thursday at eight until Bobby’s asking him about it that morning at work. He doesn’t get the chance to google “PFLAG” beforehand, and by the time the meeting ends he regrets every single thing he’s done wrong in his life that led him to this experience. He’d started out thinking a combination of, it was really great of Ellen to look out for Sam and all joking aside, had he legitimately missed Sam coming out? When voices his confusion in the car on the way home, he’s met with mortified silence and Jo’s barely contained giggling. “What?” he asks, “I figured it was okay to say something since we went to that meeting and all.”

Ellen reaches back from the front to smack Jo’s leg, telling her to quit it already and exchanging an uncomfortable look with Bobby. The lack of answers starts to get on Dean’s nerves and he snaps another irritated, “What?” before Sam finally provides his answer.

They can’t get home fast enough after that. Dean storms out of the car into his house, ignoring the attempts to calm him down. “When you can tell me why everyone and their fucking grandmother thinks I’m gay I’ll fucking talk to you!” he shouts, intending to punctuate his frustration by slamming his door shut with enough force to rattle the goddamn plumbing, but Sam catches his arm just in time.

“Dean, wait, just a second, seriously.”

And Dean can never really ignore Sam when he sounds that pathetic. “Two minutes.”

“It’s not that we think you’re gay, it’s just if you’re into guys we want you to know we’re okay with that, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Right, going.”

“Dean! Come on, you’re the one who stood up to those football players last fall.”

It’s true, when Brady had shouted, “Fag!” after Chuck for about the hundredth time in a week, Dean had finally had enough and replied, “Afraid he’s going to try and grope you? He’s got better taste than that.” Predictably, Brady had asked if Dean was his boyfriend or something, and Dean had told him to go fuck himself. The story had spread around the school, and apparently the middle school, like wildfire, transforming from a three minute exchange to some sort of Braveheart-esque speech against homophobia. Dean had gotten several hundred dates from girls out of it, and that was that. Except apparently not.

“If I had know how much trouble this would have caused, I would have kept my mouth shut and let Chuck fend for himself.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam says to the closed door.

“Don’t say anything to Dad!” Dean threatens, turning his music up as high as he can. “I need a dog,” he mutters, logging onto 66 Seals.

***

Bonzo: I need a dog

dogs just stay around when you’re miserable,

and like you anyway even when you’re a fuck up

Clarence: What happened?

Bonzo: you know

it’s like my dad comes home and then for weeks everything is fucked up

and just when things are going good again, he shows up out of the blue

Clarence: are you still fighting about the internet?

Bonzo: nah he’s still gone

apparently my “family” decided it’d be a good idea to go

as a “family”

to a gay support group

because they think I’m gay and that I need support about it

I’m not and I don’t

Clarence: you do know it wouldn’t be that terrible if you were

something must have made them come to that conclusion

Bonzo: yeah, they fucking suck

man, brb, I need a beer

Clarence: Wait, John, if you want to talk about this, you shouldn’t be drunk

or we should just change the subject and pick up the mission

Bonzo: I’m not sure what I’m doing, but go ahead

Clarence: Alright.

I came out to my parents a few months ago because of someone I admired and trusted for some really stupid reason

Bonzo: oh shit, Big Man, I didn’t mean it like that

Clarence: I know. Just listen.

I came out to my parents and they gave me hell. They’re still giving me hell.

I’d give anything to have someone I considered family care about me enough to take me to a support group.

The best thing my brother can do is give me a place to stay and try to set me up with his idiotic friends.

And he took me on vacation to San Francisco. Which is really a half-hearted effort if you think about it.

Bonzo: man, that sucks. I just didn’t really think about it that way.

I mean, I know they meant well and there have been guys, I’m not denying it.

But it’s not like that, it’s not who I am.

And my dad would give me so much shit.

Clarence: you know, it’s your choice that matters. I’m sorry if I’m out of line here, but you don’t have to be anything but yourself, John

so if it really is not like that, it’s okay, but if it is, it’s not just going to go away if you ignore it enough. It doesn’t work like that, believe me.

Bonzo: I just, I trust you, I really do. But do you mind if we play now? It’s either that or get so shitfaced I beg you to fly to Kansas

Clarence: Okay, let’s kill some evil bitches.

Bonzo: Oh my god, look at you calling people bitches.

Clarence: Shut up.

Bonzo: Okay, asshole.

***

6: I believe in the faith that could save me

Bonzo: Don’t tell anyone I said so

But these girl power shows are actually pretty awesome

Clarence: I’m not sure if I can handle this information

Bonzo: DR. SEXY IS A GREAT SHOW

Clarence: I prefer Doctor Who.

Bonzo: doctor what?

Clarence: You disappoint me. It’s a British show

Bonzo: oohhh is it like Doctor Sexy for British people?

Clarence: not even close, thank god

Bonzo: SHUT UP.

I googled Doctor Who

I don’t get it

Clarence: do you have Netflix?

Bonzo: yeah, my friend gave me her password

Clarence: I shudder to think what you’re doing to her recommendations

Bonzo: she watches Dr. Sexy, too

we have Dr. Sexy nights

this isn’t making me look any better, is it

Clarence: At least you admit it

do you watch anything else?

Bonzo: idk. Wrestling sometimes

oh we used to watch Buffy when it was on

pretty good.

who names their kid Buffy, though

Clarence: who has the last name Sexy

Bonzo: whatever, you just have bad taste

British shows. Smh.

Clarence: just watch it, you’ll see. The 2005 series. And if you don’t like it, I’ll watch Dr. Sexy. Deal?

Bonzo: the appeal would be lost on losers like you

but okay. it’s on.

***

Bonzo: YOU WIN.

Clarnce is offline

***

Clarence: oh my god, when is the last time you slept

Bonzo: between work and Doctor Who, um, two days ago

Clarence: I would say I told you so, but I almost feel bad

Bonzo: I couldn’t sleep because it was too hot, anyway.

it’s good, though

kind of pissed about Rose

Clarence: you and everyone else.

personally I like it better when he’s not in epic, star-crossed love with his companions

Bonzo: come on, if he was having a real affair with Captain Jack you’d probably be all over that

Clarence: Haha. Not really. Jack’s better with Ianto.

Bonzo: what the hell is a Ianto

Clarence: there’s a spin-off of Doctor Who called Torchwood. It’s probably on Netflix, too.

it’s Jack’s show, and his boyfriend is Ianto

Bonzo: woah they actually gave him a boyfriend? On TV?

Clarence: That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. British television is better.

Bonzo: when I’m done with Doctor Who I’ll check it out.

***

Bonzo: hey I found a song for you

it’s by one of your people

<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pwzy-oVx7k>

Clarence: Erasure.

are you trying to tell me something, John?

Bonzo: aw, you think you’re a smartass, don’t you?

hey so what kind of music do you listen to, anyway

Clarence: pretty much what most people listen to, I guess

Bonzo: ugh. Like?

Clarence: ugh?

Coldplay, Maroon 5, Death Cab, The Killers

those are my top 5 most played artists this week

Bonzo: NOT COLDPLAY, MAN.

I almost wish you’d said Lady Gaga

Clarence: I have been known to listen to her as well. Is there something wrong with that?

Bonzo: there is everything wrong with that

Clarence: You’re not being very fair.

You haven’t told me what you listen to yet.

Bonzo: good music.

Clarence: ha ha.

Bonzo: The Doors, Metallica, Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Sabbath, you know, the classics, THE GOOD STUFF

Clarence: I should have known

Bonzo: I watched your chick flick space show

you can man up and listen to some Zeppelin

Clarence: what makes you think I haven’t?

Bonzo: because your top 5 artists wouldn’t include coldplay if you had

seriously, sign of the devil

where’s my holy water

Clarence: alright I might not have been completely honest with you

Bonzo: are you about to tell me that you love Jim Morrison because he looks good in leather pants?

so girls have said, I mean

Clarence: um. Okay. no.

this can’t possibly be any more embarrassing than what you just said so I’ll just go for it

I listen to a lot of movie and TV soundtracks

Bonzo: see, that’s cool

okay, I’ll make you a list of GOOD bands

and you make me a list of good soundtracks

and watch Dr. Sexy

Clarence: that is one soundtrack I stay away from

Bonzo: you’re going to watch it one day, and you’re going to see what I’m talking about

Clarence: I find it more likely that I’ll listen to Metallica every day

Bonzo: I will take wins where I can get them

***

Clarence: YOU ARE RUINING THIS HUNT

JUST LEAVE THE GUN, IT ISN’T WORTH IT.

Bonzo: BABY, PLEASE GIVE ME A LITTLE RESPECT

Clarence: Stop with the song or I will kill you myself, I don’t care if I lose points.

nobody likes Erasure.

Bonzo: dude, Erasure rocks and everybody loves it, especially angels named after characters in shitty Christmas movies

DUDE NOT COOL WHAT THE FUCK

Clarence: I did warn you

***

Clarence: have you finished sulking?

Bonzo: no.

Clarence: well my brother is dragging me out tonight, so you can get over it while I’m gone

Bonzo: whaaatever

Clarence: …are you seriously mad at me?

Bonzo: WHAT? No of course not, don’t be a dumbass

I’m just giving you a hard time

where are you going?

Clarence: some gay bar? I don’t know

I don’t really want to go

he’s trying to set me up with another one of his friends because that worked out really well last time

Bonzo: aw dude just don’t go

Clarence: he’s starting to get irritated because I don’t want to go out

after all he took me a good distance from our parents, which I’m grateful for

and he does mean well

Bonzo: yeah I guess, it just seems like a waste

C is offline

Bonzo: uh okay then, sorry dude

***

Clarence: Sorry about yesterday.

my brother shut my laptop and gave me such a hard time about it that I gave up

Bonzo: oh, it’s cool

did you have anything resembling a good time?

Clarence: unfortunately but not surprisingly, no.

it was just a bunch of drunk guys trying to get my number

Bonzo: kinda creepy

Clarence: I guess.

Do you think you can manage not to sabotage us today?

Bonzo: I am not the one who deals out friendly fire like it’s something that’s okay

Clarence: I maintain that you deserved it.

Bonzo: you know what I do deserve?

Clarence: don’t you dare

Bonzo: that’s right

Clarence: stop it

Bonzo: a little respect

Clarence: I hate you so much

Bonzo: NOT AGAIN YOU ASS


End file.
